12/25/2025
’Twas the night before Christmas, the shop finally still,
No ratchets were clicking, no air tools to fill.
The wrenches hung neatly, the lifts all down low,
While techs dreamed of bonuses, not comebacks or tow.
The bays were all quiet, the office lights dim,
When a clatter outside made the silence grow thin.
I looked through the window, and there in plain sight,
Was a sleigh full of tools under moon-polished light.
With a driver so jolly, all greasy and quick,
I knew in a moment—it had to be Nick.
He rolled through the bay like he’d worked there for years,
Coveralls smudged up with oil and good cheer.
He filled up the lockers with gloves and new gear,
Scan tools and flashlights for the coming new year.
He tightened a bolt and gave me a nod,
Checked torque with a grin—like a mechanical god.
No words did he speak, just a wink and a smile,
Then up through the rafters he vanished a while.
I heard him exclaim as his sleigh flew from sight:
“Merry Christmas to all—and keep bolts torqued right!” 🎄🔧
